same fur.

The black maid misunderstood my involuntary gesture. I had all my
best duds on, and when a lot of women stare it makes the woman
they stare at peacock naturally, and--and--well, ask Tom what he
thinks of my style when I'm on parade. At any rate, it was the
maid's fault. She took down the coat and hat and held them for me
as though they were mine. What could I do, 'cept just slip into
the silk-lined beauty and set the toque on my head? The fool girl
that owned them was having another maid mend a tear in her skirt,
over in the corner; the little place was crowded. Anyway, I had
both the coat and hat on and was out into the big anteroom in a jiffy.

What nearly wrecked me was the cut of that coat. It positively
made me shiver with pleasure when I passed and saw myself in that
long mirror. My, but I was great! The hang of that coat, the
long, incurving sweep in the back, and the high fur collar up to
one's nose--even if it is a turned-up nose--oh!

I stayed and looked a second too long, for just as I was pulling
the flaring hat a bit over my face, the doors swung, as an old
lady came in, and there behind her was that same curious man's
face with the cap above it.

Trapped? Me? Not much! I didn't wait a minute, but threw the
doors open with a gesture that might have belonged to the Queen
of Spain. I almost ran into his arms. He gave an exclamation.
I looked him straight in the eyes, as I hooked the collar close to
my throat, and swept past him.